My Moritimer
by The Romance Chick
Summary: Let us suppose that Toad survives... ToadOC Repost expanded into longer story. Rated for future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

This was a one shot that I've expanded into a multi-chapter story. Enjoy!

**Chapter 1  
**I was coming home from an awful night at work. Every once and a while a customer gets too shit-faced to keep his hands to himself and tries to grope me or something. Mark, the owner and my boss, always kicks such ill-mannered individuals out of the bar, but that never takes away from the feeling of filth and worthlessness that stays with me for the hours following. So, I still felt like crap. I'm lucky to have Mark for a boss. He's a decent guy, but I could easily just quit tomorrow if it weren't for the fact that I have to pay rent. Damn rent! Do you have any idea how expensive rent in Manhattan is? Think of it this way: at that time I was barely surviving with two jobs. Not only did I work at Mark's Bar on 50th five nights a week, but I also worked part time, three times a week for a catering company stationed in Brooklyn. Combined, those two jobs could only pay the rent and utilities of an apartment (a single room and a bathroom). That's not to mention groceries, clothing, phone, and television bills. The television bill wasn't an issue any more since my TV broke. I still had it sitting in the room though, because I saved up so hard to buy it. Clothing wasn't such an issue either. Between the Salvation Army and thrift shops (NYC has the best), I had it covered. The phone bill was virtually nonexistent. No one ever called and I never called any one, unless I was calling in sick from work, but that was rare. The reason I don't have any friends is because I can't trust people, or at least it's very hard for me to trust people. Especially now a day that mutant issues are moving to the forefront of the news and is practically ripping the world apart. Oh, by the way, I'm a mutant. I don't know if I made that clear before. When I made it clear to my family they disowned me. That's another reason I don't get pone calls; no family relations.  
I was fifteen then and have been on my own ever since. Having nowhere to go, I took a cab from the only home I'd ever known in Jersey City to Manhattan. I slept on a park bench my first night. In the morning a cop woke me up and gave me the address of a women's shelter I could go to. The shelter enrolled me in public school and I lived there until I turned eighteen and graduated.  
As for the grocery bill, well, I may be a mutant, but my mutation doesn't include the ability to live with out food. I get by well enough though. Sometimes I bring home leftovers from the bar. That helps.

I got off the train on 96th street and Broadway but didn't feel much like going home. I still felt like shit from what that guy at the bar tried to do to me. I decided that instead of heading east to my apartment I'd go west and take a walk in Riverside Park. I know what you're thinking. I must be crazy to go for a leisurely stroll in Riverside Park at 3:30 in the morning, but I've done it plenty of times before, and I can adequately defend myself. Up until I left home, I'd been taking Jet-kun-do classed [author's note: Bruce Lee rules! and had made it to the rank of black belt. Living in a shelter and going to public school in the city also demanded that I improve my level of self-defense. Then, of course, there're my mutations. I've only had to use my skills twice, and my mutations only once, and that was on the train. I may occasionally see a homeless guy, but aside form that my late night walks in the park are peaceful.

It was a perfect night for such a walk. There was a full moon with no clouds blocking it. I could even see about ten stars. _Wow_, I thought. _Those dignitaries on Ellis Island sure have great weather for their Gala_. Just then I saw a bright light that burst over the river way downtown. I figured they must have been fire works from the Gala and kept on walking.  
As I walked, I gazed out to the river. The Hudson may be rat infested and polluted, but with the moon light reflecting off its gentle ripples it really looked beautiful. I looked out at the lights coming from buildings in Jersey. I really missed my family right then, even though I knew they probably didn't miss me. I tried to get in contact with them when I had turned eighteen and bought the apartment, but they'd moved from where we used to live.

I was so busy looking across the river to Jersey, thinking about my parents who didn't miss me, that I almost didn't see the huge dark mass piled on the ground in front of me. My senses kept me from tripping over it. That's mutation #1: I sense things (physical things) right before they happen. It's useful in small ways, like keeping me from walking into doors, tripping over things (i.e. huge, dark blobs sitting in the middle of the sidewalk) or if some one is right behind me and about to attack. I kind of have a "spider sense", sort of like that spider-guy that's always swinging around Times Square, but red and blue really aren't my colors.  
Any way, I didn't trip over the blob. Instead I stumbled back a bit and tried to see what it was I'd almost stepped on. It was pretty big for something that was just a random blob in the park. I looked a little closer and could see it was a person. A man, to be more specific. He looked like he could have been homeless, but why would he be sprawled out in the open like that? "Maybe he passed out on a acid trip or something," I thought. Acid would have been strange though. It's usually crack and heroin that drive people to homelessness, not acid. I'd heard that when I was living in the shelter. Taking a better look at him I realized he was soaking wet. There was a puddle of water around where his body was that lead to the short fence, meant to bar people from the river. The fence was also dripping.  
"Holy shit!" was the first thing that came to mind and mouth. "This guy was in the river."  
I cautiously walked closer and crouched down next to him. I reached and tried to roll him over. That proved harder than anticipated. His wet clothes weighed him down and he was somewhat heavy to begin with. When I turned him over, I looked at his face for any obvious vital signs. I was able to make out some of his general features. He was white (Caucasian, whatever [annoying political correctness). His complexion was a little dark.  
_Maybe he'd Mediterranean, or…_ I thought. Then I saw that his skin wasn't dark, in fact it was splotched. _If he was in the water this should have washed off_. My mind started racing._ He's a mutant!_ I was suddenly struck by a certain sense of mutant comradery. Maybe it was because I'd been thinking about how my parents dumped me. I don't know. All I knew was I had to help him, and quick. His blue lips told me he was going to succumb to hypothermia soon.  
_I need to get him to a hospital,_ I thought. _No. Most hospitals won't take mutants._ After a moment of thinking, I wrapped my coat around him and hoisted him over my shoulders. I shuddered at the chill of the late autumn without my coat for protection. I couldn't begin to imagine the cold his body must have been feeling. Adjusting him so that he wouldn't fall, I took off into the air toward my apartment.


	2. Chapter 2

Forgot to include the disclaimer. All Marvel characters aren't mine. ok. Done.

**Chapter 2  
**When I reached my building, I had to prop him up on the floor while I fished for my keys. It was quite a feat, holding the heavy door open and dragging him in. Luckily there was no one in the lobby or the elevator to question the awkward situation.  
Using my memory and sense, I walked through the dark room to the far end, where I had a folding screen as a partition across almost the entire width of the room, behind which was my bed. I placed him on my bed, on top my dry coat. He was shivering violently now. Worse yet, he was still unconscious.

He looked very pale, even with the splotches of color on his face. His teeth were chattering like mad. I didn't register much more of his apperance. Instinct and first aid lessons started to take over in my mind._ I've got to get him out of those soaking clothes._  
His coat came off pretty easily. The shirts were a little more difficult. The wet fabric stuck to his body. As I pushed them up from his waist my hands brushed against his stomach. _Damn! This guy is ripped!_ was the first thought that popped into my head, quickly followed by, _What the fuck is wrong with you? This man might die! Stay focused!_  
I finally got his shirt off and threw it on the floor. Not only was his face different colors, I realized, but also it seemed that his whole body was covered in varying colors of brown and green. He was also covered in several deep, fresh cuts and scrapes. He was one giant bruise. I was too focused on untying his shoes to notice how impressive the rest of his torso was.  
Only after I'd gotten his boots and socks off and had undone his belt did I realize exactly what I was doing. I pulled off his pants and put them in the pile with all his other clothes. I wondered what I was going to do about his boxers. The solution came to me and I jetted to the bathroom, coming back with a clean towel. I knelt next to him on the bed and gingerly eased the boxers to lower on his hips. I covered him with the towel then reached underneath and pulled them off by the leg.  
The rest of his body I wrapped in several quilts and blankets. The building's heating was working; that was good. There was nothing more I could do for him after that except wait for him to wake up. I figured I could at least wash his clothes for him. The thing was though, I didn't want to leave him alone in my apartment. I mean, even though I felt connected to him as my mutant brethren, for all I knew he could have been a thief or something. So, I picked up all his clothes and dumped them in the tub. I didn't wash his boxers. There are some things even I'm not brave enough to do. I did, however, ring them out and hang them on a chair right next to the bed, near the radiator, to dry. I figured that those would the first things he would want once he woke up, so I figured they should be dried as quick as possible. Besides, the last thing I wanted was a confused naked man in my bed.  
_Well, maybe I wouldn't mind that naked man in my bed. I mean his body is really nice and…STOP IT!_ I yelled at myself in my head.  
I washed his pants, shirt, and coat as best as I could then hung them on hangers then hung them on the rod holding up the shower curtain.

I came out of the bathroom and tried to think of what else I could do. I certainly wasn't going to sleep that night. Hell no! With a stranger unconscious in my bed? I may have compassion, but like I said before, I'm not stupid. So, instead I thought about what he might need once he was awake. The first thing I did was fold up the screen blocking the bed from the rest of the room and laid it against the wall. If he suddenly stood up he might have crashed into it. Next I started to wonder about feeding him. I went to the "kitchen" to see what was available. By "kitchen" I mean a mini-frig below a table containing a hot plate and a coffee maker, all underneath a microwave attached to the wall, toped with some shelves and added drawers stacked next to the mini-frig.  
_Some chicken-noodle soup would be good_, I thought grabbing a can from a cabinet. _Where are those rolls?_ I found them in a paper bag by the coffee pot. They were stale, but I figured he wouldn't care.  
I went to the bathroom with a small pot to get water to boil. I came back and placed the pot on the burner. I then reached down and grabbed some milk from the mini-frig. I don't know why, but I had a feeling he liked his soup cooked with milk in it. I learned that way of making soup from working at Mark's bar. It was the way his grandmother made it. Some British way of cooking, or something. I put the milk away and turned the burner on "high".  
"What the hell?! The little orange light is supposed to turn on,' I grumbled to myself. I checked to make sure no mouse or something had chewed through the cord. Nope. It was fine. So, I bent down to check the outlet. It was then I remembered I'd unplugged it before I left for Brooklyn that morning. I plugged it in then popped my head up to see if the light had turned on, showing it was working. "Yes! Not broken yet!"  
Suddenly, I felt my sense kick in. I was going to be lunged at.

I rolled to the left. He missed me and flew straight into the door.  
_What the fuck is he doing up?!_ my thoughts flew frantically through my head. It'd only been an hour since I'd gotten him in from the cold. He shouldn't have been physically able to get out of bed, much less attacking me! I got to my feet as fast as I could. _Thank God_, I thought. _He put his boxers on._  
I hadn't even heard him moving around behind me. I had no more time to think. He knocked aside the table in the middle of the middle of the room I used for eating and lunged at me again. Again, I dogged him with a side step. This time I was able to give him a kick to the rear that sent him flying into the wall.  
"Fuck!" he screamed as his head slammed into a picture frame on the wall. He whipped around to face me. His face was covered in anger and blood from the gash on his forehead. I readied myself for whatever his next attack might be and took a few back steps. This time, instead of lunging at me, as I assumed he would do, he crouched down, low to the floor, and leapt up in the air in an animal-like pounce.  
"Shit!" I'd forgotten to take into account his mutations. That was probably one of them. When he leapt, his whole body extended, putting his body into a streamline jump. Because of the small space, I hardly had any time to react. My sense told me to get down. At the last moment I was able to thrown my body down to the floor and roll to the "kitchen". I forgot that he'd knocked over the other table misjudged where I was rolling to, and managed to bash my shoulder into one of the legs of the table.  
"Ah!" I yelled in pain as I turned to face where he was. He had landed on the bed and was in that crouching position again. He was working his jaw as though he was trying to get something that was stuck in the back of his throat to the front of his mouth. My sense told me something was going to come at my face. I reached above me to where I always keep a tray on top of the mini-frig. I brought the tray in front of my face just as I heard something go ::splat:: against it. I wasted no time in making a counter attack this time. Jumping to my feet, I ran toward him and threw the tray straight for his head. Before it reached him something shot out of his mouth, deflecting the tray, they shot back into his mouth. Instantly, it shot back out at me, but I was expecting it. I sidestepped and caught it. It wrapped around my forearm like a whip.  
I said something along the lines of, "Eeew!" when I realized that the thing wrapped around my arm was his tongue. Were all his mutations this gross?! Before all these thoughts could go through my mind I'd yanked hard on it, sending him face first to the floor. He retracted his tongue and tried to push himself up but was too weak to do it. Instead, he passed out.  
"Oops," I said out loud to myself.

While I hadn't meant to just stand there and let him attack me, I also hadn't meant to put him in a worse state than he already was. I rolled him over and dragged him back to the bed after I'd taken my coat off the bed and hung it up to dry. I flipped the blankets over so that the wet parts wouldn't touch him.  
I went and got a first aid kit and washcloth from the bathroom to clean his face and the other cuts on his body.  
_Dman it! I should have been gentler with him_, I thought looking at the blood covering his face. He was taking shallow breaths. It turned out to not be as bad as it looked. Thankfully, no glass from the picture frame had stayed stuck in the cut. I cleaned the cut then bandaged it, then did the same for the other cuts on his body. I could feel his skin was warmer than it should be. I figured he had a fever._ That's good. His body is fighting off any induced sickness or infection. Okay. So far I have two pros to this situation: he's not going to die of hypothermia and he's not naked any more. Well, the naked part could be debated as a pro or a con but… Ahh! Stop it you horny woman! He just tried to kill you and you still have to save his life!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3  
**He stayed sleeping for a while that time. First I cleaned up the mess our little skirmish had made, and then I continued what I was doing before he woke up; making soup. When I was done with the soup I set about tying to figure out what projectile I'd blocked with the tray. I found the tray plastered with a hard wad of…something. I was finally able to scrape it off with a knife, but it was tough.  
When I was done setting up the tray with a bowl, a spoon, a roll, and a glass of water, and two aspirins, I took the seat next to the bed on the chair I'd set his boxers on before and waited for him to wake up. His breathing had evened out, but his face was still warm. He slept peacefully with out any discomfort until around ten o'clock.

I was beginning to fall asleep myself when I heard him breathe deeply, and shift under the covers. I shook my head and rubbed my eyes to wake myself. I inspected his face. His eyes were still shut, but I could tell he was awake. He just stayed like that, just breathing, and then he tried to move his arms. When he wasn't able to move (because of the snug blankets), he thrashed around for a few seconds before I was able to calm him.  
"Shhh. It's alright. They're just blankets to keep you warm," I said in the most soothing voice I could. Gently I held him down by his shoulders. He stilled and looked at me with compete confusion. He didn't make a move to attack._ Maybe he forgot I'm the one he attacked before_, I considered.  
"Where am I? How did I get here?" he asked in a raspy, tired voice. I thought I'd heard a cockney accent in there.  
"I found you in Riverside Park," I said, still with the calm voice. "I think you were in the Hudson before that. I brought you here to give you some first aid."  
"Where is here?"  
"My apartment."  
His look grew more nervous. "Why didn't you bring me to a hospital? What is it you people want with me?" He struggled to get out from under the sheets, managing to free his arm. Thinking back to the damage he'd done a few hours ago, that free arm made me uneasy. I didn't know what he was capable of now that he'd regained some strength.  
"There's no one else here. I don't want anything." It was hard to keep my voice calm. I was afraid he might attack me again if I so much as looked at him the wrong way. I un-tucked the blankets that were keeping him trapped to show I didn't mean him harm. "I just want to help you." I paused so he could take in what I said. He watched my movements as I freed the blankets. He didn't look like he trusted me any more than before. Why should he have? "You're a mutant, and I didn't think they would treat you right at a hospital." At the mention of the word mutant he visibly tensed (yes, more than he already had). "I'm a mutant too, so just calm down."  
Surprisingly enough, he did calm down when I said that. Enough that he even leaned back against the pillows, slightly. _Thank you God_, I thought. "He's not going to kill me, just yet!" All I could think was what a complete idiot I was to bring this guy to my apartment with no knowledge of him. I mean, what the fuck? I'm a New Yorker! I should have better sense than this. I was good at not letting him see my fear. I was so overcome by the fear though, that I'd forgotten what it was I was going to do once he woke up, besides, of course, feel-up those wash board abs again. "Stop," I reminded myself. Seeing the first aid kit on the nightstand, I remembered.  
"I'd like to take your temperature, please." I brought the thermometer to his mouth, but he pulled his head back and looked at it with scrutiny. "Please?" I asked again. He turned his scrutinizing gaze to me and hesitantly opened his mouth. "I'll be right back," I said, sticking it under his tongue.  
"Where are you going?" he asked, pulling himself into a sitting position. That untrusting gleam in his eye shone brighter.  
"I'm going to warm some food for you."  
I went back to the "kitchen" to warm the soup on the burner while the thermometer took his temperature. I brought the tray of food to him and placed it on his lap. I took the thermometer from his mouth. "One hundred," I read to him out loud. "That's not too bad."  
"Do you really think I'm dense enough to see what you're trying to poison me with this?" he shouted at me, ready to throw the bowl of soup at me.  
"No! I'm not!"  
"Yes you are, bitch!"  
"No!"  
"Then eat it!"  
"Fine!" I said rather fiercely. I was a little annoyed by this outburst. _What's wrong with this guy? Why isn't he just thankful I saved his ass?_ I wondered. I helped myself to a spoonful of soup. It tasted good because I'd added some basil and ginger. "Happy?" I asked after I swallowed.  
Still glaring at me, he grabbed the spoon from my hand. He held the bowl close to his face as he ate. After the first few spoonfuls he slowed down a bit. I got up because I figured he wouldn't want me staring at me as he ate. He seemed very volatile and temperamental. _Better let him eat in peace_, I thought, so I went to clean the pot I'd used for the soup. When I was done I looked back to him. He'd set the soup back on the tray and was staring blankly to the air in front of him. _Great_, I thought. _Has he gone catatonic now?_  
"Are you alright?" I asked.  
"Who are you?" he asked softly. He sounded very confused. There was severity in his tone.  
"My name is Angelina. Who are you?"  
"I don't think I should tell you."  
"Then what do you want me to call you?"  
"You can call me Toad."  
Toad. With the jumping and the tongue mutations. How terribly clever. ::cough:: not really ::cough:: I wonder, did he come up with that himself?  
"Alright." I went back to my original question. "Is there a reason you're not eating?"  
"No, nothing's wrong." He looked at me. Wow, were his eyes ever green. "Why are you doing this?"  
I couldn't just tell him the truth. "I don't know," would've sounded lame and suspicious, even though it was the truth. "You needed help," I finally said. "We're mutants; we need to stick together."  
He gave me a strange look that I couldn't quite place. I don't blame him. That sounded pretty corny. The answer seemed enough to satisfy him, and he went back to eating, a little less tense than before, but he still looked pretty testy. I knew testy could easily become dangerous with him, so I left him alone like I did before and went to the bathroom to see how his clothes were drying. They were still soaked.

_Okay_, I thought, _What now?_  
The whole situation was pretty awkward, for him as well, I assumed. As I stood there in the bathroom, no really knowing what to do, I began wondering what the hell he'd been doing in the Hudson to begin with. Unconsciously I started getting things for taking a shower. "Maybe he went out for a leisurely swim," I thought, sarcastically. "Okay, seriously, what was he doing there? He was either thrown there or jumped in. If he was thrown in maybe he was the victim of a hate crime because he's a mutant. If he jumped in maybe he was trying to get away from some one or something. Was he running from the police? Crazed anti-mutant people?" I thought it only fair to give him the benefit of the doubt; that he was either thrown in or running away from some people because he's a mutant. That's something that's been known to happen a lot. It's never happened to me because I can pass for normal. Mark, my boss, knows, so do the other guys that work at the bar, but no one at the catering place knows. I'm not ashamed of being a mutant, I'm just afraid I could be one of those victims I see on the news. Yeah, I see the news even though my t.v. is busted. We play NY 1 on the t.v. at the bar and nearly every other story lately has been about violent acts against mutants. It's all because of that mutant legislation act they're trying to pass in congress. That Sen. Kelly guy makes me so sick. He thinks all mutants should be registered with the government and monitored. Why don't they just sew stars to our clothes and throw us in Awshewiz? Not only have there been acts of violence toward mutants, but a lot of mutants have been provoked to commit acts of violence against humans, as well. Why, earlier that same night some mutants tore a train car to bits and nearly demolished a train station is Weschester. I wasn't one of those mutants. I didn't want to be a target. I just wanted to be safe.  
I then realized that I'd collected a towel, a bar of soap, and a toothbrush in my hands. "This is better service than a Holiday Inn," I thought.

He had just finished downing the Tylenols when I returned to him.  
"For your sake, you'd better not have laced those pills with anything," he said to me.  
I stared at him blankly with one eyebrow raised. A very "you're-wasting-my-time" look was plastered on my face. "Riiiight," I said.  
"I'm serious," he said darkly. "For your own good, don't fuck with me."  
My expression didn't change. I was fed-up with this guy. My annoyance took sway over the fear I had of him. "That's good to know, Tadpole."  
"Toad!" he growled.  
"Whatever. Why don't you just go to sleep, since there's nothing else you're really fit to do. When you wake up, these towels will be in the bathroom if you want to shower. Be careful of those cuts you have when you bathe." My refusal to acknowledge his threats shocked him into silence. I immediately turned my back to him and went to put the towel and things in the bathroom. I set them on top of the closed toilet lid. I also slid the lid of the sink so it would cover the half I used to do the dishes. That made me remember that I hadn't eaten yet, so I poured myself a bowl of cereal and sat down at the table. I ignored Toad as I ate, refusing to even look in his direction.  
When I had finished the cereal I noticed how quiet it was. I looked toward the bed and saw Toad had place the tray of food on the floor and had fallen asleep. "At least he's smart enough to take some good advice," I thought. I then looked to the clock. It read 11 a.m. The blinds I had covering the window were thick and dark, so they blocked out all the sunlight; it still looked like midnight in my apartment.

Having eaten, I folded my arms on the table and rested my head on them. I'd only meant to rest my eyes, but exhaustion from everything that had happened over the duration of the morning overtook my body, and I fell into a deep sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4  
**I woke up because I heard the sound of my shower running. I yawned, stretched, and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Turning to the bed I saw the sheets messed. The bed was empty. After a few seconds of panicking, my brain caught up with my body and I made the connection: Empty bed. Shower on. He's taking a shower. _Ah. So he's naked again…ARG! STOP!_ was something like the thoughts going through my head. What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I get it through my head that he was dangerous! I mean, I was never one to be into "bad-boys" so why start now? This guy had directly threatened my life numerous times! But I still clung to that strand of hope that he was a victim who was only acting defensive because some ordeal he'd survived.

Looking to the clock I saw that it was almost 4:30. "Holy crap! I need to call Mark!"  
My shift started at 5, but there was absolutely NO way I was going to leave Toad, or whatever the fuck his name was, alone in my apartment, so I called in sick to work. As I faked a stuffy nose to Mark over the phone I heard the shower turn off. I got off the phone as quickly as I could, explaining to Mark that I really wasn't feeling well and needed some sleep, which wasn't entirely untrue; the five hours rest I'd gotten on the table had done me no good.  
"Listen Angie, you don't have to lie to me," he said when I finished by sick-routine.  
"What are you talking about?"  
"I know the real reason you're not coming to work."  
"You do?"  
"You're still upset about what that guy did to you last night, aren't you?"  
I'd completely forgotten about it, but it was certainly a better story. "You figured me out Mark. You sure you aren't a mutant too? Maybe with psycic abilities?"  
"If only. Listen Angie, it's okay. I was going to call you just when you called me to ask you if you wanted to take tonight off. I don't mind. Something like that can really mess up your head."  
"Yeah," I said. It was all actually starting to come back to me and I was starting to feel pretty awful again. Poor Mark. He didn't mean to make the situation worse.  
"You rest up kid. Don't worry about it being a Friday. I'll just work the guys a little harder tonight."  
"Thanks Mark."  
"No problem. I'll see you tomorrow."  
"Got it. Tomorrow. Bye." Click.

As I hung up the phone I heard the squeaking of the bathroom door opening. I turned around and saw him standing there, his waist wrapped in a towel, wearing nothing else. I'm surprised I didn't start drooling.  
"My clothes haven't finished drying. Is there anything you have I could put on?" The sound of his scratchy, demanding voice turned my switch back to annoyed.  
"I'll see what I have," I replied in a flat tone. Going to a basket of folded laundry I pulled out my bathrobe. "Here," I said tossing it to him. "It may be a little small, so put your boxers on, too."  
He took it with a raised eyebrow. "There's no reason for you to be getting pissy. After all, you're the one who kidnapped me." With that he turned around and walked back into the bathroom and shut the door.  
KIDNAPPED!!! What the FUCK? Where did he get off saying shit like that? I breathed deeply, reminding myself that I was doing a good deed. "This man needed my help and would have died if I hadn't come along. Maybe I should remind him of that," I said to myself. Just as this crossed my mind, he reemerged from the bathroom, clad in my terry cloth bathrobe, and sat down across from me at the table.

For a few seconds we just sort of stared at each other. Up until that second I hadn't really thought about the situation and how awkward it all was. The silence was getting too weird to handle, so I said the first thing that popped into my head.  
"Do you want something to drink?"  
Hey, it was a start!  
"Water."  
There was complete silence while I moved to get the water. _Wow_, I thought, _quite the conversationalist isn't he?_  
I poured myself a glass of orange juice and sat across from him again. He gulped down his water in two swallows then leaned back in his chair, slouching, and stared at me blankly.  
This was REALLY awkward.

"So," I started, "What happened?"  
"What do you mean?"  
"You know what I mean." My eyes narrowed and my voice deepened with severity. He wasn't going to start giving me a hard time again, was he?  
"Sorry sweets, but my mutations have nothing to do with telepathy."  
The little punk was playing stupid!  
"Okay," I began, regaining my cool. "What I mean is, what were the chain of events or series of moments that lead to you being half dead in the Hudson."  
An exadurated look of confusion swept across his face as he dramatically put his hand to his forehead. "I...I can't remember... It's all so fuzzy."  
"Telling me what happened is the least you could do for me in exchange for saving your life."  
"Saving my life? Please! You've done shit for me!"  
Click, click. My line was officially disconnected.  
"YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE SHIT!" I screamed at him. He just blinked a few times, unphased. "I COULD HAVE BROUGHT YOU TO A HOSPITAL! WHO KNOWS WHAT THEY WOULD HAVE DONE TO YOU?" That had gotten enough energy out of me. "I'm about to call the cops if you don't give me some answers." He shifted in his seat but was otherwise unmoved. "So much for mutant brotherhood," I mumbled under my breath. He heard me, though.  
"What did you say?" he asked in a eager manner.  
I turned to him in, shocked that he had spoken but did my best to hide my surprise from him. "I said that I'm going to call the cops if you don't give me some answers."  
"No, after that."  
"I said 'so much for mutant brotherhood'."  
He was silent. Just as I actually was about to dial the police he said, "Maybe you'd be willing to hear."  
Willing to hear?! Was I ever!  
I laid the phone back on the reciever and went back to the table. Spinning around the chair I'd been sitting in, I sat in it backwards. I leaned my arms on the back of the chair then leaned my chin on my arms. I stared at him and blinked a few times, indicating I was waiting for him to start.  
"I am part of a mutant organization that works to better the world for mutants and help them claim their rightful place in world society. More importantly, we work to keep humans in their place."  
"And what place would that be?" I asked, a little sorry that I had.  
"Beneath us."  
"I see," I said. My eyes widened in realization. He was mentally insane. I should have known.  
He noticed how I took it all in. "Think what you like. You poor naive by-standers can't help how it is you feel for these inferiors."  
"Inferiors?"  
He sighed in frustration. "Non-mutants. Humans!" Ah, so he was a mentally insane mutant supremacist. Just lovely. "I was in the river because of a failed attempt to better the world for mutant kind. You know how all those world leaders were on Ellis Island lastnight?" I recalled some mention of it on the news. I nodded. "Well, our plan was to convert them; turn them into mutants, make them us, and then we'd have the most powerful people in the world on our side. Do you see what a victory that would have been for me and my team mates? For you? For all mutants?"  
"Sure," I said emotionlessly. By now, he had gotten far too excited for my own comfot. "How exactly were you going about this process of 'express' evolution?"  
"Our leader Eric Magnus, though more deserving of his chosen name, Magneto, created a machine which alters the DNA patterns of humans while having no effect on mutants."  
"I see," I said, and then I was silent for a moment. "So," I started, "Now you're on the run from the cops?"  
He gave me a deadly glare. "I run from NO ONE!"  
"Right! Sorry!" I said defensively. Again, I remembered how I wanted to keep this man from getting violent. "Hypothetically speaking, if you were on the run, who would you be running from? Who was it who stopped you from 'converting' all those people?"  
His eyes became distant and seethed with malcontent. "The X-Men."  
For a moment, I took in just how well constructed this world in his mind was. For a person so off the deep end, his ability to reason didn't seem to be waver. He carried himself pretty well for a crazy person. He continued before my thoughts could.  
"The X-Men are a team of mutants who stand for the exact opposite of that which the Brotherhood does. They seek for harmony between the races. It's an idealistic waste of time. It's complete madness!"  
_Oh yeah. They're the crazy ones. Keep telling yourself that, pal_. "Okay," I said. "So, now what?"  
"What do you mean?" he asked.  
"What happens _now_? Do they come after you?"  
He looked at me as if I were speaking Greek.  
"Is any one going to come knocking on my door looking for you?"  
"Oh!" He finally understood what I was getting at. "No one's going to come and bust down your door in the middle of the night. You're safe... so long as you don't piss me off."  
"Thanks," I said, sarcastically.  
He caught the sarcasm in my voice. "Hey! Don't expect me to be all grateful just because you gave me band aids and some soup!"  
"Oh, don't worry. I lost hope for gratitude a while ago."  
And with that, the conversation was done as far as I was concerned. Apparently he felt differently. He shouted at me as I walked away from him to my bed.  
"Where do you think you're going?"  
"Dude, there's only one room. Where the fuck do you think I'm going? I'm going to bed."  
"And what about me?"  
"You get to sleep, too."  
"Really," he replied in a smooth voice. I didn't like what he was implying with that tone.  
"On the couch," I added.  
"Right."  
I threw a pillow and a blanket on the couch. "Get some rest," I said. Surprisingly, he actually went to the couch and started arranging the stuff as though he were going to sleep. _Wow_ I thought, _he's actually listening to me_.  
Before I climbed into bed I tossed the wet blanket on the floor and fluffed the pillows around, using a different one than he had. I mean, I didn't know how grimy his head was, especially after being in the Hudson. Eeew!  
I turned off the light and he did the same on the other side of the room.  
"Say Angie?" I heard through the darkness.  
"Yeah?" I responded in a very annoyed and sleep deprived tone.  
"What time is it?"  
I looked at the digital clock.  
"About three in the afternoon."  
"I see."  
There was some silence and I almost believed I'd be going to sleep when I heard him a second time."  
"Hey Angie?"  
"Yes?" I emphasized the 's'.  
"Aren't you afraid I'll try to fuck you in the middle of the afternoon?"  
I could hear the delighted sneer in his voice and could tell he was just saying this to fuck with my head.  
"No."  
"Why not?" he asked, honestly curious.  
"Because," I said with severity, "If you did try something I would cut off your balls and hang them on a chain around your neck to remind you of what you did."  
Silence.  
"'Night Angie."  
_Indeed_, I thought.

Some time in the night (though it really could have only been an hour later, I don't remember) I woke up. I heard him, no, I _felt_ him stirring. Opening my eyes, I saw him crouched over the trunk at the foot of my bed. He had been rummaging around and stopped when he found something.  
_Oh no!_ I thought. _Not my jewelry! That shit is expensive!_  
I bolted up. "Hey!" I screamed.  
He leapt into the air and landed on the spot where the ceiling met the wall, facing me. Somehow his hands and feet kept him suctioned there. He was fully clothed, so at some point he had gone into the bathroom, too. It upset me that I hadn't woken up sooner.  
When I got up to go after him, he jumped down to the other side of the bed and tore away the curtains. As he started to open the window I tried to hold his arms back and take back my jewelry box, but he turned around and palmed my face, pushing me back. When I got back up he had one leg out the window and onto the fire escape. I latched onto the leg that was still inside. Boy, was that a mistake. I hadn't yet made the connection between his jumping abilities and the strength of his legs. He pushed me hard in the chest.  
"Uurhg," I groaned as I landed with a thump on the bed. Shaking it off, I went back to the window. I saw that he was perched on the edge of the fire escape. Without warning, he lept into the air, landing on a lamp post that was nearly fifteen feet away.  
"Come back with my box, you fucking asshole!" I screamed at him. Like that was going to work. But what can I say? I was caught up in the moment and it was the first thing that popped into my head.  
I had enough sense not to go after him. I just watched him run a few blocks then disappear into the night.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5  
**

The next few weeks went by pretty nicely. Toad was gone and I had managed to get over the fact that he had stolen some of my most expensive possessions and emergency cash. Tips were better during the holiday season. Life went on.

The day before Christmas Eve I worked over-time. It was a slow night, as expected. Everyone in the world was with their families or in transit, as is often the case with New Yorkers. The next day I was invited to Mark's house in Brooklyn to celebrate. He has a huge family, and between the number of them that there are and the factoring in of in-laws, there's hardly enough room to move around the house. I got there around one in the afternoon and, as usual, he tried to set me up with someone. It was either one of his cousins or one of his brother's friends, (I can't really remember; it varies from year to year.) In spite of this, I always have a good time. This year was no different.

The evening was filled with great food and great company until late into the night. When it ended I hitched a ride into the city with one of Mark's cousins who were headed to the Bronx. She could only drive me to the east side, so I took a cross town bus the rest of the way, which wouldn't have been so bad if it weren't one of the coldest Christmas Eves in recorded history. If it weren't for the blizzard that had started, I would have flown home. I thanked God that I'd decided to wear jeans instead of a skirt like I was going to. I was also thankful for the giant, hideously ugly, Salvation Army coat I was wearing. Even still, my feet felt frozen and the wind made my eyes tear.

I tried desperately to think of anything other than how cold it was. I went over every detail of that evening, down to the very color of the socks that Mark had been wearing. It was not nearly soon enough when I reached my building. Although I usually complain about the two heat settings in my apartment (off or Africa), I couldn't have been more thankful tonight; the savanah was my abode this evening.

Even though I'm used to staying up late at work, I was very tired that night. At work there are plenty of things to keep me occupied and awake, but while I had fun, staying awake at a family get-together where you don't actually know most of the family is pretty hard. I changed my clothes and fell into bed. Within what felt like seconds, I was asleep. I had a strange dream that night involving a roast turkey dancing in the snow while wearing Mark's socks. The turkey was performing the finale from Fiddler on the Roof, when suddenly the dream switched to something set more firmly in reality. The dream showed my apartment at night. I was asleep in my bed. After a few moments there was a rustling behind my curtains. Although it was very realistic, I'm certain it was a dream; I saw myself lying there and I was just watching (it wasn't an outer body experience or anything). Next came the most shocking thing I could have expected; my curtains parted, and a man stepped in through the window. He must have been pretty stealthy, because I stayed asleep in my bed as the dream progressed. Snow poured in through the window from outside and filled the steaming room with cool air. I felt the cold as if it were real. As the wind blew the curtains apart, orange light from the street spilled into the apartment, illuminating the room and the face of the person breaking an entry.

It was Toad.

Suddenly, I knew all of this was real, that it wasn't a dream at all. It was my mutation telling me to wake up. So I did.

I saw his standing from at the foot of my bed, not looking at me, though. His back was to me and he kept looking from the window he had just come through and the interior of my apartment. It looked as if he were judging his two options; leave before I noticed or stay. _Stay for what?_ I wondered. What did he want from me? Either way, I wasn't about to let him think he could stroll into my home just as he pleased.

I jumped up and stood in the middle of my bed holding high in the air the baseball bat I always keep behind my bed.

"What the fuck are you doing in my apartment? Get out you little shit! Get out!"

He snapped his head around and stared at me. His face looked almost blank except for the slightest bit of fear.

"N-n-n-n-no," I heard him stutter.

"You chicken-shit-rat-bastard, get the fuck out of my apartment!"

He backed into my apartment. His hands were at his side, palms facing up toward me. His mouth opened a few times and strangled noises came out, but no words.

"I'm telling you one more time: get out!"

I said this and he looked dead at me. Then his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell into a heap on the floor.

"Holy shit! Not again!" I turned the lights on and ran over to him.

Now that I had a clear look at him, I could tell he was in worse physical condition than the first time I saw him. Actually, I was surprised he wasn't dead. His skin was extremely pale. His lips were chapped and blue. His pulse was so low, I had to check for it several times to be sure it was still there. I couldn't detect breathing either until I did the mirror test. This was clearly a worse case of hypothermia than the first he'd had and needed immediate attention. At that point, I stopped thinking and started acting.

Again, I don't know what came over me; the over powering urge to help this stranger. This stranger who had broken into my home and stolen from me and cursed at me. Why did I think to save his life? This time there were no pauses to giggle about his immodesty as I undressed him and wrapped him in blanket after blanket. He was shivering violently, convulsing almost, from the cold. I'll repeat it; I was surprised that he wasn't dead. He was wearing the clothes he had last been wearing when I saw him. The coat and pants he'd had were in no way suited for harsh New York winters and now they were far more tattered than they had been before. I tossed them straight into the trash.

Once I had him beneath several blankets, I shut the window, drew the curtains and opened the vents of my radiator. Like I said before, the one good thing about this tiny apartment was that it was toasty warm in the winter, often times scorching. Fortunately, tonight was one of the nights they were pumping in heat like there was no tomorrow, i.e. Africa.

_Here we go again_¸ I thought to myself. I knew I'd have to miss work for the next few days again. Thankfully, Mark had already given her and the rest of the crew who worked at the bar the whole week off. It was a family tradition that he, his son, his brother and all nephews would run the bar during the days from Christmas to New Year's Day. So, I had a week to deal with the problem lying in my bed unconscious. I knew though that I would not be able to help him until I got some sleep myself. So, after doing all I could, I took my coat and went to the couch to sleep.

"Merry Christmas, Toad," I said to him before also falling into sleepy unconsciousness.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

When I woke in the morning, he was still out cold. The color in his skin had returned and he wasn't shivering any more. Now, instead of feeling like ice, his skin was warm to the touch: fever. How long had his fever been running? If he didn't regain consciousness I was going to have to take him to a hospital. _Same story all over again_. It was clear though, that this guy was a serious criminal; if not for what he did to me, the cops would be after him for something far bigger. Maybe he was even telling the truth about that whole Liberty Island thing.

It seemed he was having a nightmare. His head tossed back and forth and his brow was furrowed. From time to time, I was able to catch a word on his breath; _No... tunnel...can't... _I couldn't even begin imagining what he could be dreaming, but it seemed to be keeping him unconscious, as if he was stuck in it.

I did what I could, applying cold compresses to his forehead and checking his vitals. After a day, nothing changed. Finally, on the third day, I had to go to work at my second job. In addition to working at Mark's, I work as a server for a catering company in Brooklyn.

I felt less scared about leaving him alone than sorry. Yes, I'd been asking myself why I hadn't turned him in to the police yet. But there was a time when I wasn't much better off than he was. If that cop hadn't pointed me in the direction of that shelter, if I hadn't met the people I met, I could have become a completely different person. The situation could be in the reverse, with me passed out on the bed. _What turned him into this? _I wondered. More importantly, _What would I want if I were him_?

When I came back from work late that night, he was still asleep, but his temperature was little more normal and his breathing was deeper. Still, he seemed to be having the same nightmares. I'd pulled my partition down so I could see him from my spot on the couch. From there I was able to hear every little stirring motion he made as he shifted, troubled by his dreams.

Just when I was about to go to sleep, he woke, gasping for air. I went over to his side, pouring him a glass of water from the pitcher I'd placed beside him, in case he woke up while I was gone. "Sit up," I told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He didn't struggle or push me away as he had the last time he'd woken up. Slowly, still coughing, he sat up. "Drink this," I said, placing the glass to his lips. Supporting his back so he wouldn't fall back, I tilted the glass for him. He was using his own hands to support himself as much as he could and his arms were still shaking. At first, he tried to take large gulps and started coughing; it seemed he was really dehydrated. "Not so fast," I told him. "You might go into shock." After my warning, he took more careful sips.

"More," he rasped as he finished. "Please," he added, to my amazement.

I filled the glass again and fed it to him. After that, he seemed rather spent. The small task of drinking water had drained him of all the energy he'd gained while asleep.

"Rest," I practically whispered as I pushed gently on his shoulder.

Slowly, carefully, he lowered himself back to the mattress. Closing his eyes, he took a few deep breaths. I waited until I thought he was asleep before moving away. Just then, I barely heard him croak out, "Look in my pocket..." before rolling over, away from me, completely asleep.

It seemed that he was better. Exhausted, but better. I let a long, silent yawn. Before going to sleep, though, I decided to heed his words, and go to the trash to check his pockets. His cargo pants were empty, except for some random odds and ends. I figured that couldn't have been what he was talking about, so I went on to inspect his coat. I found the breast and right-hand pocket to be empty. Sticking my hand into the left pocket, I was struck dumb. _No. It couldn't be. _I felt a hard, rectangular object under my touch. Pulling it out, I saw what was the jewelry box he'd stolen from me all those months back. Opening it, I noted that none of my jewelry was missing! The same was true when I swiveled open the two little boxes to the bigger one at the bottom. However, there was two-hundred dollars cash missing. Peaking over my shoulder at him, I had to suppress a rueful laugh. _I wasn't expecting __**that**__ much, was I?_

Closing the box, I placed it on the folding table in the center of the room. This guy was seriously a trip. Turns out, I didn't know the half of it. None the wiser, I slipped off to sleep on the couch.

I woke up somewhat rested; I had slept better knowing he was healthier. All that calmness was soon replaced by an instant freak-out upon realizing I'd forgotten to set my alarm. Checking the clock, I saw I had an hour to get to work. _Crap!_ That's a big deal when you rely on mass-transit and have to look presentable for tips. As quietly as I could, I grabbed a set of clothes to put on and got changed in the bathroom. Upon emerging from the bathroom, fully changed and somewhat groomed, my eyes settled again on my jewelry box. Even though I was in a hurry, having it back made me immediately want to wear the earrings I'd been missing while it was gone.

They were simple clasps with oval, amethyst stones that hung about and inch from my ear. As I slipped them on, I noticed he was awake and sitting up. He stared at me, studying me, almost looking confused.

"Thanks for returning it," I said, trying my best to sound casual. It came off somewhat sarcastic.

"Sorry about the cash," he said, just as casually, yet sincere. "I'll pay you back."

That made me smile. It was a nice thought; he may have even believed himself. "Okay," I said. Grabbing my bag and coat I headed for the door. "I need to go to work. There's some chicken in the fridge: help yourself."

With that, I left. I wasn't sure he'd be there when I got back. Part of me was kind of hoping he'd be gone. Hadn't he put me though enough? Little did I know what I was getting myself into.


End file.
